Top of the hill
Some days it’s so difficult, that by the time you reach that magic moment when the girls are asleep and it’s time to clean up the huge heaps of mess they made, you don’t know what to do. Freedom beckons, and it is easy to ignore the mess. I feel like that today.
The terrible two’s have come early. Today, I pulled Rachel out of the dishwasher possibly four times. Yesterday, no less than seven bites were exchanged between the girls, typically in response to the theft of a toy, control of a toy, or because biting is “funny.” It’s amazing how fierce their competition is — even when I come home, they fight over who I will pick up first. On Thursday, when I put Anya down to pick up Rachel, Anya screamed: “HE IS MY DADDY!”
Television is watched in fits and starts, paused to break up a fight, put a leash on a stuffed dog, or give someone “nummies.” Dinner is spent trying to hide pools of ketchup on my plate — the girls are obsessed with “dippy.”
I need a nap.
Raising Twins | jeff | 25 February 2007 |
